


Going Up, on a Tuesday

by griffle



Series: Batman: The Drunk and the Done [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce Wayne is So Done, Bruce tries and fails at parenting, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Diana and Clark being good bros, Drinking, Humor, I Don't Even Know, Listen I just wanted more Done and Drunk tm Bruce Wayne, Mentions of marriage, Other, Out of Character due to Alcohol, Ra's Al Ghul is a creeper, Translation Available, general ridiculousness, mentions of boy-brides, mentions of ninjas, mentions of ooc from other characters, mentions of the relationships mentioned above, older!Damian, only mentioned nothing ever shown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24118678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griffle/pseuds/griffle
Summary: Three bottles are slammed between them."We're getting drunk," was all Bruce said, before starting to chug from a bottle.Clark looks at Diana. Diana looks at Clark.Well.
Relationships: Damian Wayne/Tim Drake (mentioned), Diana (Wonder Woman) & Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul (mentioned)
Series: Batman: The Drunk and the Done [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761643
Comments: 17
Kudos: 631
Collections: Tim Drake





	Going Up, on a Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> Just Drunk and Done™ Batman crack. 
> 
> Edit: Edits have been made here and there because I wrote during a bout with insomnia and I am tired. So tired. 
> 
> Look, a sequel.  
> [ **Boom Boom Boom Boom (I want to go Boom Boom)**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24222583)
> 
> Look, a finale:
> 
> [ **Oh, What a Circus** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24632569)

It wasn't rare for Batman to call a secret meeting. It wasn't even rare for Batman to do it in the side pocket dimension meeting room when they were trying to shadow-puppet Dinah, which Clark _still_ felt bad for. It wasn't rare for Batman to show up late. A couple minutes late. 

This was fifteen going on twenty minutes late. 

Clark looked at Diana. Diana looked at Clark. 

They were. worried.

Because it _was_ unusual for there to be a voicemail left on their civilian phones, from Batman himself, a voicemail that said, "Justice League. Other Meeting Room. Now." on their civilian phones which could be easily tapped _._ It was so unusual it _never happened before_. Clark had made some random excuse, texted Lois a vague "I think Batman is dying" and flew off. He'd met Diana at the doorway and bust opened to-

Nothing. 

They stepped out. Looked around. Asked several heroes. Checked and double checked all the security. Nothing was awry. They checked again. Still the same. 

The worry grew into Concern. 

Finally they decided to wait it out in the meeting room, because- well, something had to have happened. And so they waited for their explanation. 

At the twenty minute mark, Batman came slamming in, his arms full of something. "I locked the door and threatened Barry with a penectomy if he didn't guard the door and kept his ears and eyes shut." 

Well. 

"Batman?" Diana says, as Batman pulls down his cowl. His face is haggard, with eyes giving the thousand yard stare. Clark swears he sees more gray in Bruce's hair. Batman looks like he would like to be anyone here, or anyone else. 

This. Is Not a Regular Meeting. 

Three bottles are slammed between them. Three bottles that are big and clear and probably filled with very strong alcohol. Fancy, but strong. Both of them gazed over Bruce's shoulder, at the various cartons of probably top shelf liquor that apparently they did not notice as they sat down. 

"We're getting drunk," was all Bruce said, before starting to chug from a bottle. 

Clark looks at Diana. Diana looks at Clark.

Well. 

They start chugging alongside him.

* * *

It was pure grace that Diana could hold her own drink to make a Norse God be proud and Clark's alien metabolism made it near impossible for him to even get tipsy. 

It took up to Bruce's fourth bottle before he even said a word, slurred and sad.

"I fucked up."

"I highly doubt that…" Diana was instant, ready to soothe, but Bruce just waved a hand irritably. 

"No I fucked up. I'm got...got PTSD and parent issues and control issues and...so many issues. So many. My issues have issues. Why do they let me keep having children. Jesus." He ran a hand over his face. "I made them emotionally-brain dead as me. I should have at least...show I care, and I'm too much in my head to even try. I'm pathetic. I fucked up so many lives." 

Clark looked down at the bottle, feeling his usual ire at the man, soften. Sometimes, one forgot that Batman was only just a man, who was trying to bring some sliver of peace into the world. 

"I fucked up," Bruce said miserably. 

"Maybe you could...tell us?" Good old Diana. Trying her best. 

Bruce waved a hand. "No, no you wouldn't get it." He had slouched dramatically in his chair, making his face look like a squashed turnip. "You wouldn't understand." 

Clark felt his eyes soften. "You can tell us anything." Diana nodded. "You are with us, your friends, Bruce," she said. 

Bruce closed his eyes, his face looking more like a squashed turnip. "Damian asked for Tim's hand in marriage." His face went even more turnip-y. "Damian wants to give a dowry to Tim." 

Clark didn't breathe. Diana forgot to breathe. They remembered who those two were No one did a damn thing until Bruce spoke up again. 

"Also Damian's immortal asshole grandfather wants Tim as his own...I don't know, intelligent concubine? Boy-wife? Maybe? He keeps sending Tim all this silk and lace and green lingerie." Bruce waved a hand. "And ninjas." He was picking at the label. "I'm so tired of ninjas. I bet Metropolis doesn't have ninjas." He looked balefully at Clark, just like Old Bessie would do sometimes back at the farm. _There weren't any ninjas in Kansas either,_ Clark mind helpfully supplied. Clark ignored that remark because what the _Rao?_

"Uh, nope, sorry," Clark forced out a wheeze. "Say, didn't you adopt Tim?" Bruce shrugged. "Forgot to send in the paperwork." He frowned. "The lawyer kept reminding me, but I forgot." 

Diana sputtered. _"Forgot to-"_

"There was an attack from Joker and Riddler and…" he waved a hand again. "Anyway, Tim's, smart. I would give him like, half of my company. But he's so smart. Also he has his own company. I kept it. Like a baby duck. He can do, so, so many great things, he's like a son to me, a lot," he slurred. "Damian too. He's my son. I love him. " Bruce took another swig. "My son loves my other son. I have a son-love problem."

"I think there's a different word," Clark muttered, wincing when Diana punched him in the ribs, out of the sight line of the drunk man. 

"Bruce, it may be that it's a mere infatuation between the two. However this...other problem is concerning I would like to go back to the part about the grandfather…" Diana carefully asked. Bruce gave a long, drawn out sigh. 

"Ra’s Al Ghul," he spat. "Ra’s. Al. Ghul. Ra’s Al _motherfucking_ Ghul." He kept rubbing at his eyes. "He's a dumbass immortal douche Assassin Leader maybe Demon maybe just Demon adjacent that really should stop trying to make Tim his wife. Boy-Wife. Boy-Crime-Wife? Man-Wife? How would that work. Talia would have to call him mom. Step-mom." A pause. "Oh god, Damian would have to call him grandmother. Ra’s Fucker Ghul is that kind of traditional asshole. Tim's too young to be a grandma. He couldn't survive a retirement community, he's too Gotham. Maybe I should let Damian marry Tim." 

"Let's not get too hasty…" Clark jumped, really, concerned of where Bruce was going, mentally. And trying to figure out if they had breached "alcohol poisoning" territory. It did not feel like a fun time. This was not a fun time. He was still trying to wrap his mind around "Assassin Leader" and "Boy-wife." A glance at Diana showed that her own mind was slowly unraveling from this insanity, already drinking steadily from another bottle. 

Now the copious amounts of liquor made sense. _Rao._

"I _can't_ help it if Tim's too pretty!" Bruce cried out. "I thought he'll be all bulky or tall but he's just...too _pretty_ . I meant already Steph dated him, but that's different cause it's more...not as weird...but he's so pretty Clark," Bruce was whining. _Bruce Wayne was Whining._ "He could totally pull off dresses. He _has_ pulled off dresses. I have a pretty son." 

Clark downed one bottle in a gulp. "And what about...Damian-"

"APPARENTLY," Clark and Diana jumped. "Apparently Damian has been 'in love with Timothy, Father' since...fourteen. He's nineteen. Five years. He tried to kill him and now he wants to have a mortgage and sparring practice and raise puppies with him." Bruce took another swig. "I saw his scrapbook." Bruce looked helplessly at both of them. "You know how hard it is to find out that your child has a stalker scrapbook on your other child? Why can't I just deal with them trying to murder each other. That was easy. I don't know how to parent scrapbooks. So many candid photos. And tasteful stickers. There were cut out paper hearts. Some were even symbolical and not anatomical. He's so in love."

"What does Tim have to say about this?" Diana asked. 

"He won't talk to me and apparently he caused several bases of Ra's Al Shitty Ghul to explode." 

Clark sighed. "Please don't tell me you went all...Batman...on him." Bruce didn't say anything. Clark sighed harder. _"Bruce-"_

"Is it his _legs_?" Bruce shouted. "I can't help it if my son has legs made for walking! All of them! I can't control it if they cause traffic collisions when they wear shorts! Listen, I didn't know have-half of this shit! Not until Dick showed me that stupid ‘Crimes Out, Thighs Out’ t-shirt of his…" he groaned into his bottle. 'Alfie was right, I should have been a dentist," he grumbled into his nearly empty bottle. "Dentists don't have to worry about psycho clowns or sons preparing a dowry for other sons or weird pervy old men wanting a crime Boy-man-wife." He finished the bottle. Maybe Clark should have been counting. But then: "I would have made a good dentist. A nice dentist. I just... it's teeth. They give me the heebie-jeebies."

"Heebie-jeebies," Diana repeated, her face a careful blank mask, but her eyes shined with the same emotion that Clark was feeling. That same feeling that made drinking all this alcohol worth it. 

Clark was _enamoured._ And so eager for Blackmail. Already he had surreptitiously pulled out his phone, hitting the record button. He needed Lois to hear this...not the boy-bride or the weird potential relationship between Bruce's two sons, that he would probably see if that...was accurate...but Bruce? A _Dentist?_

"Bruce," Clark leaned in. "Please tell us why you would make a good dentist."

"I also thought about being a chef," he said morosely. "But I kept making the ovens explode. They kicked me out." 

"Oh my gods." Diana's shoulders were shaking. "Oh, my _gods_." 

"Bruce," He leaned in closer, a bright big grin on his face. "Out of curiosity, what were your other career choices?"

* * *

To be fair, he should have been more on guard. 

Just, when the Manor was empty, especially at noon, on a Tuesday...sue him, Jason wasn't god. It just felt nice to be in the Manor, knowing only Alfred was there, working, and there was a certain peaceful stillness that just. Disarmed you. 

Which is why he nearly shot Superman and Wonder Woman full of lead as he busted through Bruce's bedroom door.

He heard noises, like muffled arguing, and then it was instinct because like _fuck is any asshole is going to kill Alfred-_

He skidded to a halt as Wonder Woman and Superman froze, obviously putting a Batman to bed. 

"What," he said. Wonder Woman didn't even blink. Superman smiled. "Hi Jason." 

Bruce rolled his head, not even moving correctly, and a familiar sense of rage that this alien- Bruce _trusted_ him-

"I shoulda been a cowboy," came the sad, slurred comment and Jason just. Froze. 

Was Bruce _drunk?_

A breeze came through the open window, and the smell of a _holy shit that's some fancy alcohol and a lot_. Bruce was mumbling, head rolling about. Superman just patted the man's shoulder, easily placing him in bed. Wonder Woman was currently grabbing every single pillow and fluffing them. Fluffing. Them. 

"Yes, yes," Superman murmured. 

"A giddyap one. Like in Oklahoma. Or Kansas." Bruce looked up to Superman. "We should all become ranchers. Drop the capes. Settle out West. With moo-moos."

Oh, thank the Zombie Jesus that he was alive to see this. Jason had never felt so happy to been not-dead. Moo-moos. He swore he felt himself shed a tear. 

As Superman placated Bruce _(moo-moos),_ Wonder Woman had wandered over to where he was standing. 

"Red Hood," she nodded. "I take it you are well."

"And I take it that Bruce is completely smashed," he said, jutting his chin over to the slurring hot mess. Wonder Woman thinned her lips. 

"Yes. Red Hood, have you seen Red Robin? Or Robin? We...Superman and I...have some questions to ask them." 

That was a red flag. "What type of questions?" He asked, and it wasn't like he was worried about the Replacement it's just he's remembering that the Replacement has been more on edge and temperamental, and Babybat was acting different and kind of _creepy_ and now he was wondering if something happened because if Bruce was this level of drunk on a Tuesday, that wasn't a sign of things going hunky dory. 

Wonder Woman smiled. It was a pained smile. It was a Bruce smile. "Questions," she said lightly.

Jason looked at her. And looked at the hot mess in bed whining about life and career choices in Superman's arms.

"...last time I heard, the Demon brat was busy at the Titans Tower. Replacement said he was going out to some location in the Middle East," he replied, eyes stuck to her. "Try Mount Justice. Or the Clone Boy for more info." 

"Kon-el," replied Superman just as Bruce, who was practically being absorbed into the pillows, shot up and said "I'm too handsome to be a grandpa." He grasped at Clark's shoulders. "Clark, I don't want any weird step babies or tube babies. Babies cry and bite your ear."

"Bruce," Superman said patiently. "I have _no_ idea what you are saying." 

"You're a good friend." Bruce patted Superman's ear. "You and Diana. I'm so lucky that I have you two as my best friends. You don't try to make my sons into Boy-Wives or Grandmothers or plan dowries and don't judge me because I have pretty sons. I'm a shitty friend. I don't deserve you. But I love you both. I love everyone. I'm just scared." He said this as if he was whispering, not drunkenly proclaiming. 

Something twisted in Jason's chest. 

Superman didn't even blink. "I'm glad you're my best friend as well- but you should really get some rest," he said gently. 

"Yeah," Bruce sighed, leaning back. His eyes started to close before he immediately shot back up again. 

"Clark," Bruce stared deeply into the alien's eyes. "Have a million babies. Diana. Become the New God Leader." And immediately collapsed onto the bed, snoring loudly. Jason leaned closer. 

"...Yeah he's out for the count," Jason said, nodding as he leaned back. 

"Please don't let him patrol," Superman said. "He drank a lot and I may have had to drug him so he wouldn’t die of alcohol poisoning.”

"Also, there's a pill Atom made that should help with the massive hangover he's going to get when he wakes." She nodded towards a nightstand. "It's in the small packet."

"Thank you, Red Hood," Superman said, and then hiccup, blinking. "Oof, I think I'm tipsy?" He had a finger to his temple, marvel coating his voice.

Wonder Woman kept blinking at him. "I think I also agree with your statement, Kal-El. We should probably leave. Thank you, Red Hood." 

Jason watched as two of the mightiest heroes flew, a little wobbly, out of the window, leaving the stench of _so much alcohol._

Jason stood very still for a moment. He walked over to the completely passed out, hot mess of a man. He was drooling. Jason took a quick photo before walking out, prepared to get Bruce a glass of water. Common courtesy, he said to himself. But it didn't mean that he could palm out his phone, dialing a number. Because also, Boy-Wives and Dowries sounded very much like a Lean, Mean, Green, Undead Machine M.O and Tim disappearing to the Middle East should of been a clue, but _fuck_ , it felt like one of them were being kidnapped to the Middle East every other Friday. Give him a break. 

"Hello?"

"Holy Batman, Dickiebird you fucking missed the event of _the season_." 

Bruce said _moo-moos._ Jason will never let the man live it down. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to read Batman basically going "fuck it" and Diana and Clark being good bros and drinking with him. 
> 
> I've been reading a lot of DC fics and this wouldn't leave me alone. I hope I didn't get them too out of character. 
> 
> Batman goes and gets a new liver once he wakes up and stop feeling like his body is made of broken glass.

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